


and my nightmares will have nightmares (every night)

by craftingdead



Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Character Study, Gen, Nightmares, Rewrite, Unhealthy Relationships, more in notes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 01:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16052558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: Nick didn’t have nightmares.He wasn’t sure if that thing about Red really even counted—it was too fucked up to be a nightmare. Nightmares are what kids had after watching scary movies, not traumatizing dreams over a cannibal killing your best friend and attempting to murder you as well. That probably counted as a night terror, if he was being honest, from the way he reacted when he woke up.But, other than that, Nick… never really “had” nightmares. Never woke up screaming, crying, scared out of his wits (again, not counting that Red thing). He just never had them.





	and my nightmares will have nightmares (every night)

**Author's Note:**

> title from Twin Size Mattress - The Front Bottoms  
> this is gonna be split into five parts: first, event 1, event 2, event 3, and last  
> event 2: implied abuse of an authority figure towards a child  
> event 3: unhealthy friendships/relationships, emotional/mental abuse, implied [attempted?] sex/aul assault/abuse
> 
> warning:  
> it is implied that nick is around 14-15 in event three, while rich is older (17-19). just for you guys who need it

Nick didn’t have nightmares.

He wasn’t sure if that thing about Red really even counted—it was too fucked up to be a nightmare. Nightmares are what kids had after watching scary movies, not traumatizing dreams over a cannibal killing your best friend and attempting to murder you as well. That probably counted as a night terror, if he was being honest, from the way he reacted when he woke up.

But, other than that, Nick… never really “had” nightmares. Never woke up screaming, crying, scared out of his wits (again, not counting that Red thing). He just never had them.

Nightmares were common and well, expected, with the world that they lived in. A world where the wrong move could get your stomach ripped open by the undead. It was the fucking apocalypse, why wouldn’t there be people waking up gasping for air and clutching at their sheets? Sweating through blankets with tears forming in the corner of their eyes. It was fucking strange when no one woke up during the night!

(Once, Jess, while on guard, once didn’t have to deal with a single nightmare from anyone. She then immediately produced to wake everyone up to make sure they weren’t dead, since no one came to her to talk or just be in the presence of another person. Nick didn’t fall back asleep that night—hey, maybe that’s the reason why he doesn’t have nightmares! Because he never fucking sleeps!)

But, as mentioned with Jess, there was always someone there to comfort you if you woke up sobbing and scratching at your throat, begging for air. Even if you never had anyone before, if you’re parents didn’t care when you snuck into their room late and night and woke them with teary-eyes and a shaking voice, telling them about the nightmare you had. Even if you had never had anything like that before in your life, there was someone now. Probably another person who’d waken up from a nightmare, but someone nonetheless.

He was always one of the lucky ones. One time, all the way back at Barney’s cabin, they’d had a rough night. A really, really rough night. The next morning, he was the only one not grumbling about wishing they had coffee or yawning into their hand or rubbing the sleep under their eyes (but not the heavy bags). Jess joked that she wished she was him. He laughed along with her, but something about that night put him on edge. He didn’t sleep for a week.

It was always weird, talking about their lives before the apocalypse. Nick couldn’t… Nick couldn’t remember any of his—that might’ve been the reason he rarely got nightmares. He had nothing to regret, nothing to miss—he was just thrown into this world and told to survive. He was, in place of better wording, “born” into the apocalypse. He couldn’t… didn’t remember anything but it.

The first time he woke up from a nightmare, shaking and shuddering, though, it threw him off guard. _Way_ off guard.

He could barely remember the dream the next morning. _Something about a school and someone else maybe?_ he thought. Something in it went wrong, however. Nick knew that. He knew that somewhere, something, somehow—it went wrong. There was something missing but he didn’t remember what so it was tearing his memories into shreds, filling in the peaceful blanks with death and destruction and static. Everything was _static_.

Tears stained his cheeks. His chest was heaving so hard that it hurt to fucking breathe; he could barely get in a proper breath, and when he did, he choked up and could barely hold back a sob. Shaking hands and blurred vision and it all felt so wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

It didn’t feel normal.

It didn’t feel right.

Nick regretted picking a spot so far away from the others. He didn’t know why he chose this little spot, only separated from the rest of the White House by a thin door that prevented him from hearing absolutely _no_ voices. He could barely sleep the first night. It felt so wrong being away from other people, especially from Ghetto, who he’d slept next to or near to for what felt like forever. Instead, Ghetto was halfway across the White House, sharing a room with Sky and a wall with Shark and AK. Jess was further down the hall from them, and Jin on the opposite side. And Nick was all the way over here, alone.

Maybe… maybe he could go to Ghetto? The latter had done so to Nick many times, in the days following Jordan’s death, Red’s threats, basically anything that went wrong. He’d be awake before Ghetto even got in the room, and made space without saying a word. Sometimes Ghetto talked about the nightmares. Sometimes they didn’t. It depended on the day. But Nick rarely went to Ghetto. He was supposed to be the leader, he didn’t have time for _nightmares_.

Sky probably wouldn’t mind if he spent the night in their room. He had taken a shine to Nick immediately, following along as often as he could, making sure he was safe, the whole nine yards. It had a particular brotherly feel to it that Nick craved so badly, but something was missing from it (what?).

Nick didn’t go to their room. Instead, he pulled his knees up to his chest and stayed like that for a while. Listening to the rain pour against the White House, howling winds slamming into windows and doors and cracks in the foundation, bringing drafts down the long halls. No one seemed to be able to put a finger on how it got so cold at night. Nick couldn’t put a finger on why his nightmare scared him so badly.

(It was filled with static and people and names he didn’t recognize, and his mind was filled with static and people and names he didn’t recognize. They interlocked so closely and it terrified him down to his core, yet he barely realized it.)

 

* * *

 

 

It might’ve been the start, it might’ve been the end. A coincidence, a lucky guess of the brain. Ironically, the night the dream happened was the several-year-anniversary of the event. It wasn’t anything big—no one died, locked themselves in a bathroom and cried, got thrown out of a party, or got run over. It was just a small after-school thing that, after being remembered, set something… much, much bigger in motion. Something no one could’ve predicted. (Shelby and Sky probably could’ve predicted it. Or, at very least, predicted something extremely similar to it. The event had to have happened sooner or later. There was no way Nick was just gonna stay like that, right? Right?)

Shelby got detention. “See you later,” she’d said with a grim smile as a teacher shoved her into a classroom with tons of other “delinquent” kids. It wasn’t even anything bad—so what, she talked back to a teacher. It wasn’t like she spray painted dicks onto the bathroom or called another kid a cuss word. She just had a snarky remark to a shitty teacher. It was bullshit.

Nick was waiting outside for her when it happened. He was waiting for her like they always did when one got in trouble. And they were both afraid to walk home on their own, without their sibling’s hand in theirs, so that was another thing. And besides, she was his twin sister! Flesh and blood! He had no right to skip on home while she suffered in a stuffy classroom filled with shitty boys and annoying girls!

A few high schoolers had visited the smaller, more pathetic-looking middle school to converse with the eighth graders about classes and the school building and whatnot. Mostly juniors and seniors, who’d been there for years, with a few sophomores sprinkled in with the majority. They were charming and funny and, if he was being honest, _so cool._

So, when what looked to be a junior approached him, Nick was in shock. He was a shitty sixth grader who was sitting against the classes wall with his backpack reading a book (while waiting for his sister, of all things). Why the hell would a high schooler be interested in him?

The junior wasn’t… the nicest. He called Nick names and made fun of him for sitting outside alone, but also offered to help if he needed any. When Nick declined he scowled, but slid down the wall beside him and waited for… something. He didn’t know, so he ignored the much older and much more intimidating looking student while praying that his sister would get out soon so they could go home. It had nearly been an hour. How long did detention normally take?

Nick didn’t remember how it happened. But next thing he knew he’d said something he probably shouldn’t have said and the junior had him up in a corner. He was scared out of his wits, despite knowing that the older student probably wouldn’t do anything—who would beat up a sixth grader? Besides another sixth grader, of course.

He pulled his hand, now forming into a fist, with an angry expression on his face. Nick screwed his eyes shut and braced for impact. It never came.

Shelby came out of detention alone. There were two exits; one to the courtyard outside, from which the buses, front of the school, and general exits back home and out of this hellhole were located. Shelby, having a brother waiting for her, decided to use the one back into the school. The one absolutely everyone hated with a passion, seeing as it meant _more school_ and not _leave school_.

She broke his fucking nose.

It was ironic, seeing as the kid was most likely planning on breaking Nick’s nose, or a different valuable part of his face. One moment he was bullying a tiny, fragile sixth grader and the next he was on the ground, holding his nose and trying to stop the flow of blood that was squirting out of it from, you guessed, a different sixth grader. They’re fuckin’ brutal, man.

Shelby grabbed onto Nick, who held her hand back and together they ran like hell. No one saw it and the kid didn’t know their names, so they were safe, but still. The two of them couldn’t be caught dead there when the junior finally pulled himself up and got his nose to stop bleeding.

He still shaking when they reached the familiar stretch of road leading home. Whether it was from running god-knows how far from the school to his house or the encounter, Nick didn’t know. Despite hiding it with her head held high and dried blood staining her knuckles, Shelby was shaking too. He could feel it in her hand—though not as violently as he was. The moment they got home, he pulled her into the bathroom, cleaning the blood off of and bandaging her now bruising knuckles. He might’ve been the one cornered, and the one who had to be protected, but damn it if he wasn’t going to take care of his sister.

(In the sick, sick static he heard noises of fighting and screaming, which quickly cut off to a sickening crack and another scream, higher this time. It made him nauseous and Nick nearly threw up when he woke up.)

 

* * *

 

Trouble seemed to follow Nick and Shelby wherever they went.

In eighth grade, they had this history teacher. He had come in halfway through the year (after the high schoolers conversing time with the eighth graders—Nick and Shelby had skipped out on that one, instead playing on their phones in the bathroom) from the middle of nowhere and no one really knew his name so he was given the nickname “Mr. K” (from a rumor about his last name) and he allowed kids to play games instead of work every Tuesday and the occasional Thursday and every kid at that pathetic school fucking _loved him_. Even if he wasn’t… legally a teacher.

Nick hadn’t really… trusted him all that much. Maybe it was because of how abruptly he came to the school and immediately got liked by everyone and everything, or the fact that he favored some students over the others, or whatever small, shitty thing he might’ve done. Mr. K just gave Nick major bad vibes and he absolutely hated that class for some unknown reason.

Shelby always told him to get over it. While she ate the candy he’d given out after her fifth Kahoot win in a row. While every kid loved Mr. K, every kid hated her candy-snatching ass. She shared with Nick, so he didn’t hate her. She shared even after he’d vented his worries about Mr. K, her favorite teacher, to her. His sister was nice like that. Shelby might’ve believed he was bullshitting but hey, she still looked after her “babiest brother Nick who is practically a child compared to me, his older twin sister who is cooler than he could ever be.” Her words, not his.

Nick started to give in. Started to like Mr. K, started to get over the bad feeling he always gave him. Began to like the class, even.

Until one day.

The fifth week of school, Mr. K was passing out papers for one of his rare fuckin’ quizzes that everyone from here to the mainland hated with every inch of their bodies. He made up for it with cookies afterward, though, since he was the cool teacher and had a killer sweet tooth.

In the very back, a few seats away from Nick himself there sat a girl. Pale, dark brown, nearly black hair, thin and fragile-looking girl. Wasn’t that noticeable, seeing as she wore the same gray hoodie and a different pair of jeans to each class, and hell, she even looked okay with that. Looked okay with not being noticed by the main population of their school.

Until she wasn’t.

Most of the kids didn’t notice. Too busy either one) doing the quiz, two) complaining about the quiz, or three) cheating off their friends and trying to make it look different enough so Mr. K didn’t notice that they did, in fact, cheat off their friends to notice what happened.

When Mr. K passed by her desk, he did something… weird. Nick had been watching intently, waiting for Mr. K to finally fucking pass one out to him when it happened. He handed out a test (plus a spare pencil, seeing as she usually forgot) and placed a steady hand on her shoulder as he did it. Holding onto her way too tightly, and only moving on after she visibly paled and whispered for him to “go away” under her breath, something Nick barely picked up on. There were light tears in her eyes.

The moment Mr. K started walking again, Nick hastily turned around in his seat, trying to shove down budding nausea in his throat and the way his hands shook. He took the paper with the steadiest hands he could force, and as Mr. K left, Nick swore he saw him glance over his shoulder and glare intently at Nick.

He immediately told Shelby.

After boarding themselves in the out-of-order bathroom on the second floor during lunch like they always did (Nick had found it a few days after school had started. Shelby had been sick as _fuck_ without realizing it the night or morning before, and he wanted to be with her so she didn’t have to feel shitty in peace.) She was scrolling on her phone casually and chewing on a cracker when he brought it up.

She looked… furious? Shocked? Furious with a dash of shock with a dash of understanding? Nick couldn’t figure it out.

“I’ve seen him do it before,” she whispered to him, almost as if she was afraid someone would overhear and rat them out to the infamous Mr. K. Nick wished he could’ve been surprised, but he, most unfortunately, was not. She admitted that she thought it was an accident, and brushed it off as so, but, after thinking on it a bit more, they both realized that it wasn’t an isolated event, and that nice old Mr. K probably wasn’t as nice as they—or anyone in the school, really—though he was.

“This is what we get when we don’t hire a legal teacher,” Nick grumbled. Shelby replied with laughter; shaky, uncomfortable laughter. Not the good kind. As far off from the good kind as one could get.

A few days later, she was kicked from class after “accidentally” cursing him out in front of the entire class. Shelby mentioned the girl as subtle as possible in the rant and just like that, she was gone, cursed to spend the rest of the school year with the other history teacher, away from Nick.

The day after, Nick filed an online report against Mr. K. His hands were shaking as he did it, clicking on the official school website and typing as much as he could onto the small, limited space they were given for whatever they needed to type. Shelby wasn’t there—she was sick at home, but she’d been texting him all day about how they needed to get rid of Mr. K (along with a few other students who’d caught on and been helping them), so he was gonna do something.

Not even Shelby knew what he was doing. He’d been ignoring her texts so he wouldn’t get distracted from the task at hand, and he knew she’d be pissed at him for ignoring her for so long but Nick _had_ to do this.

Mr. K was gone the next day.

No one heard from him again. Some kids said he left Seaport behind with only the clothes on his back and a metaphorical price on his head. Others said he was in jail, thrown in there for his crimes. The majority, however, said he was dead. Said that he’d been killed and that his body was rotting under some bridge, his chest torn open. Throat slit. Foam bubbling out of his mouth from some poison or another. It got more graphic every time the story was told.

Some say after that school year, the pale girl and her family moved off the island. Nick wouldn’t blame them and didn’t doubt it. No one ever really learned what happened to Mr. K.

(In the static there was a man. A tall man, taller than anyone he’d seen before. He laughed and laughed and smoke figures of people disappeared around him and Nick felt more terrified than he had in his entire life watching it and couldn’t stop shaking when he woke up.)

 

* * *

 

In freshman year, there was this boy. His name was Rich.

He was a year or two above them. Because of their tiny school system, he sat in a few of Nick and Shelby’s classes, chewing on the end of pencils and throwing notes back and forth and making rude jokes when the teacher was talking. He had ginger hair and bright eyes and stood out against their dull classroom like a clown—which everyone liked to call him—and everytime classes started to get dull Nick would always be drawn to him, watching Rich bat papers back and forth and claim to be doing nothing when the teachers tried to catch him in the act.

“Who’s the dude Lynx’s staring at?” Jesper teased, sliding into the seat next to them. They’d been reunited at the start of high school, Jesper a now near foot taller than both Nick and Shelby and proud to point out that he’d been taller than them since the first day they met, eight and nearly ten respectively.

“Some fuck named Rich,” Shelby replied. Shelby, to say the least, fucking despised Rich. It wasn’t because of any incident that had happened, or him getting on her bad side or anything. It was just because he was on the soccer team and she was on the track team and in their little area there weren’t enough schools to properly have school vs. school games so the different teams had to compete and they all fucking hated each other. Y’know, like a normal high school.

“Eat shit,” Nick said, dreamily. He totally wasn’t zoning out and not paying attention to anything besides “dude,” “fuck,” and “Rich.”

In November, Rich got an actual girlfriend and Nick, sadly, decided to give up his crush. For the better good and less unrequited pining, ya know

It was easier to realize that Rich wasn’t the “funny bad boy” Nick had chalked him up to be in his head. Leaning against the locker beside Nick’s, asking him if he wanted to hang out with him and a few other kids after school, a hand in his hair looking to the side awkwardly. Not the suave, “I can do anything cool-ly and comfortably haha I’m a funny joke man” Rich he always saw displayed in class, calling the teachers rude names behind their backs and pretending like he didn’t hear when they yelled at him.

“S-sure,” Nick responded, positive that his response had been way too quick to be seen as calm and collected and totally-not-freaking-out-in-his-head-right-now-haha-nope. Rich grinned and scribbled his number on a piece of paper, slipped it between Nick’s fingers and walked off, yelling to text him when he got out of his last period and Nick’s heart stuck in his throat.

Shelby was going out to a movie with herself, a few cheerleaders, and fellow track players so he assumed it’d be fine if he went out as well. Just to be sure, however, Nick still texted her and when he got a _NICE!!!_ in response he smiled to himself.

It was… fun.

It had felt like forever since Nick had actually hung out with people that weren’t Sky, Shelby, or Jesper. He hit it off with a few other freshmen who’d been invited along and chatted with Rich nearly the whole time. When he wasn’t being his stereotypical seen by the school self, the dude was even cooler than Nick would've thought.

On the way home, he ran into Shelby. She was tossing up M&M’s from a bag and catching them in her mouth and threw a few at him when Nick finally caught up with her. They talked about their days and Shelby bragged about hanging out with cheerleaders and Nick listened as she did and they got yelled at by Sky for scaring him when they slammed the door open, laughing hysterically over something some kid had said and booked it upstairs when he threatened them with a pillow and had _fun_

Nick started hanging out more with Rich & Co. Shelby basically had started her own girl gang, so she was busy doing that and he was busy with his own friend group but they still yelled at each other in the hallways and hung together during lunch since they weren’t going to abandon each other, what siblings did that?

His dad didn’t really approve of Rich, but still stayed out of the way when he & Co. came over since he was a supportive dad. He did force Nick to watch over Susan instead of taking her out, but it was fine since everyone loved her. Who wouldn’t love a big, fluffy dog?

They’d spend hours just hanging out on the roof. Most of the guys would fall asleep and then it’d just be Nick and Rich, watching the moon and stars and trying their best to prevent anyone from falling off the roof. They were some of the best nights’ Nick’d ever had, Rich next to him smoking and making the occasional joke and Nick laughing along because that’s what he did—laugh along.

“You ever think of running away?” Rich would say.

“Nah,” Nick responded. Because it was true. He liked where he was and he planned to stay there for as long as he could. His family was there, after all.

“Alright.” Rich sounded… kind of pissed. Nick didn’t know what he did but he immediately felt bad. Was that not what he was supposed to do? Was he supposed to answer yes? He mostly knew to laugh along and agree with everything Rich said—did that include this?

“I’m sorry,” Nick immediately blurted out, feeling his cheeks burn. Rich would take a long drag of his cigarette, and say “it’s fine” with a tinge of annoyance in the back of his voice and Nick would feel like throwing himself off the roof because he had one chance and he fucked it up!

“I’m just… disappointed.” Rich took another drag. “Thought you would agree with me, as a friend, y’know?” Then he put the cigarette out onto Nick’s bare thigh, muttering about how he was headed to sleep. Nick stared at the night longer, the burn on his thigh stinging and the scar already forming over it. He wouldn’t sleep that night, filling too guilty about letting Rich down to do anything but stare at the sky and feel so, so far away from himself at the moment.

Things started to change not long after that.

It started with small things—Rich & (mostly) Co. making inappropriate jokes about inappropriate situations, and growing defensive when people called them out on it. Calling people rude names, even slurs, sometimes, and laughing when they got pissed at it. Hell, Rich had even used his fair share of names against Nick when he was being even slightly annoying and it burnt worse than that cigarette (he still had a scar on his thigh from it).

In March, when Rich’s girlfriend finally left him, storming out of his house during a party and screaming that she wasn’t coming back, it only got worse. Rich, though being a stereotypical teenage boy half of the time, wasn’t the kind to flirt with everyone. Even before his girl showed up, he didn’t do it much, respecting people's personal space. He stopped that. A guy got into a fight with him for hitting on some senior who grew uncomfortable with every passing second. Nick wished he hadn’t done it. He was forced to hold an ice pack to Rich’s eyes for hours and felt sick when Rich squeezed his (scarred) thigh in thanks.

They reduced a freshman girl to tears one day. Jesper had swooped in, patting her shoulder and sending glares that Nick swore would burn right through Rich but he barely responded, laughing and muttering something Nick couldn’t make out but made Jesper bristle like a hair.

Nick tried to mouth ‘sorry” but Rich pushed him away with a firm hand on his lower back. Pushed him towards the school doors. They skipped that day.

Shelby kept begging him to give Rich up, to walk up to him and say that he was fucking done with all the shit Rich was pulling, and leave for good. To separate himself from that gang of kids and instead stay with her, stay with Sky and her and Jesper, to be _happy_. Nick agreed. And tried.

There was a party coming up. One where Nick could get him alone and either one) ask him to stop being such a piece of shit—since he was one of Rich’s closest friends, right?— or two) tell him that he was leaving for good, and didn’t want to hang out or associate with Rich & Co. anymore. Nick tried to convince himself that it would work, that Rich would understand. He would! Sure, he got angry and lashed out whenever Nick was being difficult, but it really was his fault, and Rich always apologized afterward! Sure, they sounded forced and annoyed but he still did!

The party was postponed for a different weekend, a weekend when Rich’s siblings weren’t around and Nick and Shelby rarely saw each other anymore.

He was with Rich most of the time. Spending nights at his or another friends house. On the nights he was home, coming back when it was late and either being too exhausted to talk to each other and passing out on the couch or saying he needed to go up to his room and do “homework.” He was lying through his fucking teeth, Shelby knew that. She was his fucking twin, she knew when he wasn't being honest.

It got worse, and worse, and worse. Shelby didn’t even see him come home. She tried staying up late and waiting for him but eventually, Sky dragged her back to bed and left Susan to wait for him. He was just as upset as her but showed it through anger, not sadness. He rarely spoke to Nick either. She swore their dad was the only one who got through to him.

“Do you know where that one black top is—I’m going out with friends, and I wanna wear it!” He was preparing for a party when Shelby tried to talk to him. The party, to be exact, where Nick would try and “break up” with Rich.

He paused for a second. Then lunged for it (it was on the floor, taken from god knows where. They practically shared a closet by now), yelling, “Back off, I was gonna wear it!”

“You don’t even like that shirt!” Shelby argued, bouncing across the room over to him and nearly screaming when he snatched it up and held it close to his chest, protectively.

"I do now!"

She eventually had wrestled it out of his hands and laughed her way all the way back to her room to change. He cursed her out from across the house and Sky yelled at them to “SHUT THE FUCK UP IM WATCHING TV” and he cursed harder. Nick waved to her as a car pulled up in front of their house, and she waved back. It was the most direct interaction they’d had in a while. She loved it.

And on the night went.

“Hey—hey, Rich?” Nick slurred, a little tipsier than he had planned to get at this party. Music was pounding through the speakers and kids were chanting “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” at some other dude who had a big-ass cup of spiked kool-aid that he swore was strong enough to kill a grown man.

Rich paused, way more sober than Nick, only having had a half of a cup. “Yeah, Nicky? What is it?”

“I like it when you call me Nicky. ‘ts funny.” He giggled, completely forgetting was he had been planning on telling him beforehand. The latter laughed, wrapping an arm around him to keep Nick from falling and looking down at him in a way Nick had never seen before.

“I think we should sober you up.”

“Naah, it’s _fiiine_.” Rich rolled his eyes, shooing Nick away from the general crowd and up a flight of stairs. A familiar flight of stairs that he knew from running up and down them so many times since it was Rich’s house, right? He knew where Rich’s house was. Totally. Rich was smiling down at him and it twisted Nick’s stomach into knots but it was _fiiine_ because it was _Riiich_.

“I’m pretty sure we need to. And I have just the thing,” Rich purred into his ear, pushing Nick into an empty room. Nick nearly tripped over his own feet and Rich steadied him because it was _Rich_ his cool, older _friend_ who liked Nick because he was so _mature_ and agreed with _everything_. He asked about the party but Rich shook his head. At least, Nick thought he does. The room was very, very dark and the door was shut and he might’ve heard Rich lock it? He didn’t know. “The party isn’t important anymore.”

“Rich?” The grip on him tightened.

At about two or three in the morning, Shelby was woken up by her phone ringing. She groaned and ignored it, deciding instead to roll over and tried going back to sleep. It just kept ringing, over and over again and with a deep breath and a pinch to the bridge of her nose, she rolled back over and picked it up, blinking when the brightness disturbed the usual darkness of her room: it was Nick.

“Shelby?” He sounded close to tears. His words were slurring slightly as he rambled on, stuttering and asking if she could pick him up. That immediately woke her the fuck up. “It’s… something happened it’s… it’s nothing, but can you please, please, _please_ pick me up, ___Shelby_.”

“Of course.” She listened to him talk as she wrestled on a proper pair of jeans and shushed him when he started getting upset because no, she’s not calling him a fucker! She’s calling the stupid ass fucking pair of jeans she can’t pull on a fucker. She got them on and was out the door in the flash, barely remembering to leave a note of where she went.

She input the address of Rich’s house on Google Maps and walked all the way there. Spotify blasted in her ears as she walked the whole twenty minutes it took to reach his house and with every minute that passed grew more and more concerned with Nick by the time she reached his neighborhood she was near a panic attack and what if Nick wasn’t there what if something happened what if—

He was sitting on the curb in front of the house. His hands were shaking, head lowered down and staring at the ground. Shelby’s headphones ripped out of her ears as she sprinted towards where her brother was sitting.

Nick nearly fell over when she hugged him, shaking worse than she’d ever felt him do before. When she pulled away, his shirt was riding up so slightly and she was about to ignore it and ask what had happened when she saw what looked to be a bruise on his skin. He tried to push it down once she noticed but Shelby gently pulled his shirt up just enough to let her see it and it looked like a vaguely handprint-shaped bruise and she could feel herself shaking with anger as he tried to convince her it was nothing bad, just an accident. But there were tears gathering in his eyes and other marks and bruises were on his neck and wrists and Shelby wanted to kill someone.

Rich walked out. Yelled something, laughing with a bitter tone. Nick flinched. Some of Rich’s friends tried to drag him back in. He yelled something else. Nick paled. And Shelby saw _red_.

She barely remembered what she did. But it was enough to get her suspended from school for a week. She didn’t give a shit, she could care less about fucking school if it meant kicking that motherfucker's ass to the next dimension.

The night after, Nick was busy tending to the wounds she gained during the fight when a flash came over his face and everything hit at once and then it was Shelby holding his hair up as he threw up into the toilet. Jesper climbed through the window—he always entered like that—and agreed to take care of Nick while Shelby took care of herself. She shakily agreed and left the bathroom, listening to Jesper whisper kind and reassuring things to Nick.

She entered her bedroom, shut the door, and burst into tears.

When Shelby had finally calmed herself down, she left her room only to find her brother passed out on the couch and Jesper stroking his hair, Sky and Dad arguing in the kitchen. They paused when she entered and, for the second time that night, Shelby burst into sobs. The snotty, ugly kind of sobs. But at least her brother was safe. And at least he didn’t have any nightmares that night.

 

* * *

 

Nick never had nightmares.

He never did.

Well, as he sat on his bed for the fourth night in a row, arms wrapped around his body and light sobs interrupting his breaths, he thought that was bullshit. His dreams were filled with static and hurt and they made him want to throw himself off the nearest roof but he had no idea _why_. There was something missing but he didn’t know fucking _what_.

The White House started stirring. He wiped away his tears and pretended to be asleep. At least they didn’t have to know about his nightmares.

He “never had them,” after all.


End file.
